mymindatwork:

Geordane performing his poem, Flesh Memory, during the poetry slam —Like A Virgin: Slamming for the Very First Time— last February 14, 2012.

FLESH MEMORY
Geordane Tabo-oy

Strange, how it’s already been a day
But I can still smell you on my fingertips—
Can still taste you in the back of my throat—
Can still hear your voice in the long silences.

The memory of your deep laugh reverberates
Through my flesh and bones,
Flashes of your smile excites the senses
The electricity of your touch, still alive.

Strange, that when my mind wanders,
It’s your face that I see. Crescent eyes, rosebud lips.
It’s your skin that I feel. Burning flesh, dewdrop sweat.
Your warmth—nay, your heat that envelops me.

The memory of your lips, your tongue—your kiss
Wet. Hot. Burning through my flesh like liquid fire.
Your thrusts, your groans so deep, your whispering gasps
Hard. Fast. Consuming my nakedness with your fiery hunger.

It is not Lust alone, we agreed.
How can something this beautiful
Be a mere disciple of Desire?
But it is also not Love. Not for me.

Eight times you spoke the words. Rolling out of your lips like chocolate song.
Eight times my body tingles. Your sincerity blazes through my entirety.
Eight times I only nod. To echo you would be a snake through my lips.
Eight times your face falls. Crashing down to a mask of Tragedy.

:”) le me is shy.